Sardonicism
by Pomagraniteshading
Summary: A story of Hermione and Severus falling in love and hate at the end of the second wizarding war and beyond. Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter. Rated M for violence/ gore/ future sexiness.
1. The Night of War

_Severus Snape- 17 years old. _

Lily leans into me, she's cold. Her arm is snaked around my waist, her breath pillowing out of her as she exhales. She seems to steal all my heat from me. Her lids are hooded as she peers up to me. I see green and purity and a haunting innocence. _I want to corrupt her._ My heart pounds in my chest and she licks her lips with that wet, pink tongue. Just a little closer and I could taste her. Just lean in a few inches… But I'm petrified. I'm no Gryfindor, not that I'd want to be. I reach up to cup her cheek, soft yet freezing. I think I'm shaking- am I? Yes. Very much so. Time stops.

Lily clears her throat jarring me, she sits back up effectively closing my window of opportunity… again. "I uh… have transfiguration, but I'll see you tomorrow morning." I nod stiffly and watch as she walks away with her arms wrapped around herself. She's lying.

I want to scream or gouge out marks into the trees of the forbidden forest. Just to prove how frustrated I am. To prove how much I want her. I want to curse myself but instead I slump on the tree behind me and try to reign in my anger. It only takes a few seconds- occlumency will do that to a man. A_ man. _Hardly. I can't even kiss the girl I've been pining after for seven years. She was right there, so close. And I failed.

What's the point of even trying? The honest truth is she is completely out of my league. Even if I did get to kiss her...

I bark out a laugh. She'd be disgusted. When my lips touch hers, if ever, she'll realize there's no spark for her and just like that I'll be irrelevant.

She doesn't really want me. I love her more than anything; she loves me like _a friend_. But that doesn't mean I can't see her pity and shame every time Potter comes around. Or when I sit in solitude to eat or read or do anything really. As if I couldn't possibly just want to be alone. Well, I guess we are just different people. If I had any sense I'd listen to Lucius and stop pining over her. _But when have I ever taken anyone's advice?_ It's still becoming too hard to pretend we are still best friends.

That is the catalyst. She spends her nights with the Marauders and I spend my night brewing draughts. She follows Potter around like a giggling twit and hardly spares me a glance lest she miss the moment he takes another breath. And I wait for her, and I hope for her- because I love her more than anything. She haunts me while she's still alive. I think of her hair when I see dragon's blood. I smell her when I brew Amortentia. I compare her skin to the creamy color of bone paste. She'll haunt me forever. I cannot or maybe, do not want to escape. What do I have waiting for me outside this obsession?

I'm not favored for my dashing personality. My peers come to me when they need their homework done, or an illegal potion, or some type of job to be done that only a man like me could do. Someone with nothing to lose and no old wizarding name to disgrace. I am no one's friend but Lily's and it has never extended past that. It is ignorant of me to hope or fantasize about her professing her undying love. It is ignorant to hope that if I HAD kissed her she wouldn't have automatically retched in disgust. But it is also ignorant to ever let her go.

I watch all my classmates attack each other's faces like hormonal rabbits. Even now after dinner in the great hall I walk around these corridors and it seems that every hundred feet there's another blasted couple to remind me that I'm alone. Alone while my best friend Lily Evans falls for Potter. Alone while they're snogging atop Gryfindor tower. I sneer in disgust.

It's loveless, as pathetic as I am to admit it, to be me. So I brew another potion, this one more difficult than the last. I revise the instructions and add a new ingredient. The fumes make my mind hazy because I can't be bothered with a mask. This is my life. Loveless. I enjoy it for the most part. I blame my need for human touch on puberty. I blame my need for Lily on stupidity.

I've had a few quick fucks with a pair of Hufflepuff twins. They took my virginity. It's fun while it lasts and they're nice enough chits. They're beautiful too, but no matter how many times we come back to each other I still think of Lily. Those two ask me to stay the night in the Room of Requirement with them each time. I have once or twice and being covered with two naked blondes is, I realize, something almost every male student has fantasized about.

Sleeping like that is comforting, but the sex no matter how explosive has always been empty. The emotions are never there for me. It all just seems unnecessary and oddly draining. But I never deny them, they are, in my defense, hard to resist. So it isn't sex that I want, or passion. I long to be loved so deeply that it resembles a softer sort of worship. But alas, no one wants to love me. Not even sweet Lily Evans.

_)O(_

_Hermione Granger- 17 years old. _

My legs are cramping by the time I get back down into the trail to the shrieking shack. I sprinted all the way to the whomping willow and now in this tight space I crawl my way through panting and panicking at the lack of oxygen, the lack of everything. When it finally opens up to the house I scramble back to Snape's body. I curse shaking my head and take deep breathes like the muggle psychology books say to do in hopes of calming my body. _Focus._ I press three fingers to the side of his marred neck and a hand on his chest. I close my eyes and wait. I focus on touch and try to drown out the sound of my blood whooshing past my eardrums. A wave of desperation threatens to overtake me just before I feel a tiny pulse.

A sob of relief rips through my throat as I grab the essence of dittany and a bezoar from my beaded bag. With a swish of my wand the pool of blood is gone and leaves a burgundy river of fresh liquid pulsing slowly out of Professor Snape.

"_All this time, it was Snape."_

"_Harry what are you saying?"_

"_He was protecting us this whole time 'Mione… Oi! Where are you going?!"_

_Focus. Focus. Focus. _I chant to myself as I dab the dittany on the wound. It should start to weave together now… A tear streams down my face. _It's not working._ Another deep breath and I wipe my eyes smearing blood everywhere. I grab a blood replenishing potion and force that down his throat. As I rub his marred flesh it gushes blood and it seeps between my fingers. I have to look away for a moment and calm the wretch in my throat. _How much pain am I causing him? Focus. Focus Hermione._ Then I shove a bezoar and another potion at one minute intervals down his throat. I pray desperately to Hecate and grab the dittany again.

I'm washed over with relief as the wounds begin to purge a deep, spiky green puss and start to heal. I place a rag soaked with dittany on Snape's neck and try to coax another blood replenishing potion into him. I can hear his breathing get stronger but also labored and short. I nearly smack myself with realization that he's most likely in tremendous pain.

"Hold on professor." I uncork a bright red pain potion and touch it to his lips. I lower my hand to his neck but stop and watch as he swallows by himself. It's at this time that I realize he has been stabilized. I take out a basin and conjure water. When a sponge is soaked I flick my wand and banish the pools of sticky blood and begin to clean him up.

The water turns pink, his pale skin is smeared with flecks of dried blood I can't quite make budge. He shivers and I panic. "I'm sorry hold on." My voice is thick with emotion as I cast warming spells in the shack, to the blood laced water, and onto the floor beneath us along with a cushioning charm. I'm vibrating with guilt. _I've left them in the middle of the battle._ But I couldn't leave _him._ To die, after everything. I was nearly convinced he might be our enemy but it only took one sentence from Harry saying otherwise for me to abandon the thought.

Anger wells up in me. I let out a frustrated growl and cover my face with my hands as if to block everything out. "I told them. Always. I have always defended him… They never wanted to accept it. They never wanted to belie-" I sob over Professor Snape, unable to keep mumbling to myself. WHY could they have not just trusted Dumbledore, if not Snape then Dumbledore? I let sobs wrack my body. I tug at my curls and rock back and forth above the seemingly calm figure below me.

Water soaks through my clothes, my hands have a death grip on the once engorged sponge. My sobs alternate with pants and whimpers. I can't see anything. The low lights of the shack provide no assistance. Snot runs down my chin. My lungs feel constricted. _I think I'm having a heart attack. _I claw at my chest and gasp for breath as if breathing has become foreign to me. The edges are all blurry and I can't… I can't…

_I can't breathe here…_

_)O(_

_Severus Snape- Present. _

Such bright lights for death…

…..Must be Hell….

…..Hast to be the ninth circle….

So cold… It's painful….. It's BURNING….. IT'S…

I gasp as my body jerks upward only to be thwarted by leather straps across my ankles and wrists. "Headmaster please" came the gruff voice hovering outside my limited vision, "I'm very glad to see you're awake. But I have to change these bandages. Lay still." Pomfrey worked swiftly to release my restraints and sit me up with fresh bandages on my neck. _Surely marred beyond repair. Yet another embellishment to my garish appearance. Ah well, I'll always be an intellect. _She dimmed the lights and opened a curtain to reveal a soft moonlight. The witch then left, clearly plagued with many in her wards... _Merlin's dick! _

From wall to wall and floor to ceiling were various types of flowers. Vines curled up and around pots_. What fresh hell is this?_ Jasmine perfumed the air. Maybe I didn't survive. Maybe this is all an elaborate supernatural torturing of the soul. Of course I know it isn't true. _One could hope._ Before I could contemplate my own existence any further a soft, impatient knock came from the door.

My head snapped to the location but I moved too quickly and in result the burn flared again. "Come." I croaked. _Fantastic, the one good physical attribute. _A soft figure with a halo of curls edged into the room. As she turned I blanched.

The angel… _Granger! _In my final moments I was pulled from my pain to see a beautiful creature smeared with my blood and dusted with dry mud. _She'd had leaves in her curls... must have showered… How long have I been unconscious?_

"I've been waiting for you to wake." _How long? How long has she been waiting? _"I wanted to be the one to tell you." _Ah, there it is. A motive._ My stomach spasms treacherously, all the same. "I've been by your side since the end anyway. So I thought… I would tell you." _Since the end, how long ago was the end?! _I refuse to make the mistake of speaking again so I settled for a suspicious glare.

She steps into the moonlight and smiles a tired, pathetic type of smile. The kind of smile I would take as a challenge. _If I were the man responsible for her happiness. Which I'm not. Thank Merlin for small mercies. I've only just rid myself of the Potters. _Even if her happiness was strained, she still looks… If I can admit it only to myself… soul crushingly beautiful. Her lips are cherry red and chapped. _From biting them no doubt._ The curls fall down her shoulders with a slight, signature frizz. She looks too pale and has purple and yellow bruises peppering her shoulders. But she is… beautiful just the same.

"You're a war hero Severus." _She used my first name…_ I sneer as if to say- _yes I know Miss Granger._ I had hoped not to survive, but I had also made sure that everyone would wallow in their own misjudging stupidity whether or not I happened to perish. She gives a soft, relieved- to my own confusion- smile as a silent reply... And then she bites her lip and seems to vibrate before pouncing forward.

I jerk backward into my bed as her warm arms gently wrap around my waist. _She's hugging me…_ Right then and there I go through an internal war. To wrap my arms around her or to stay stock still and pray she never lets go. Because she is warm and I am freezing. She is soft, so soft she's bruised all over like past ripe fruit. And now she has her head buried on my chest… and I can hear her soft cries. And she is a woman, acting as if I am her oxygen. And when was the last time I was hugged? When had I ever been shown such emotion? Somehow I know she isn't sad, this is her relief spilling out onto me.

My heart wrenches and my face contorts in pain and after what seems like an eternity my arms are around her. Holding her steadfast. "I always believed in you." Her voice breaks. "I promise I always trusted you. Dumbledore trusted you and so I trusted you. You are such a good man… I'm so… so sorry… All these years…" She curls her fingers into my hospital robes and trembles. I rest my head against my pillow and sigh…

I fell asleep with my ex-student. I fell asleep with _Hermione Granger_. And I felt a feeling in the moments before unconsciousness that I had not felt in so long that it took me a moment to realize… I felt _free._

"I believe you, Miss Granger." It came as a whisper and I'd only a soft sigh in reply.

_**AN: I think I'd fancy this as quite beautiful. I'm contemplating building a whole story off of this but for now it's just a one- shot. Let me know what you guys think. R&R**_

_**Some facts:**_

_**Ninth Circle of Hell is for the treacherous. Sinners are encased in ice, which is why I chose that. **_


	2. A Breaking Point

_Hermione Granger- 16 years old, Hogwarts- Gryfindor Tower._

The room shimmers, the edges all haze and warm fog sliding up my skin. _Here we go again._ His forest green and dark wood four post bed sits in the middle of where we are. (Where ever we are.) The floor echoes circles with every step he makes, grindylows watch with interest beneath the glass like surface.

I know this is a dream, because I feel like a woman. I know what this is because when his dark pools of eyes lock with mine I make it a point to hold his glare with a slight spark in my eye. _Oh yes_, we've been here before. I bite my lip in a slow anticipation, completely naked atop his silk sheets and suede comforter.

Then he's right there at the edge, cloak sinking somewhere off into the lake. His white button up clings to his strong, wiry frame. He approaches me like a snake approaches its prey. Slow and counting on the paralyzing affect he causes. In a blur he's settled between my thighs running rough fingers down my side. His breath tickles my neck, I arch pressing my breasts to his crisp shirt.

"You're going to miss breakfast, Miss Granger."

I gasp quietly and grimace at the pools of sticky warm between my thighs. I reach blindly for my wand and check the time. Dream Snape is right, if you count the time it'll take to shower off all this sweat. Merlin, even in my dreams he's perfection and logical. I groan aloud. Why won't he just leave me _alone?_

I'm perfectly aware that this isn't the actual him. If it was, I think I'd let myself be tortured into oblivion. In my dreams the extent to which he wishes to possess me is palpable. But when I wake and I'm left sticky and hot and throbbing- I know instantly I'm stupid for even fantasizing. He is unobtainable.

_Hermione Granger- 12 years old, Hogwarts- Potions._

He seems to dance into the classroom like a warrior. Terrifying, graceful, dangerous. All the air whooshes out of me as his eyes catch mine while the baritone of his voice lulls me. He is power. He is… is everything I've been waiting for. A mentor, someone to prove myself to.

I vow within milliseconds that I will be his _favorite_.

I'll do anything.

_Hermione Granger- 17 years old, Forest of Dean._

Being _his_ favorite has proved to be the most stupid, impossible goal I'd ever set for myself. We'll probably both die from this war before that ever happens. I run my hands roughly across my face and try to ignore the cold. All my frustrations, every sadness, all the bad memories seem to bubble up and before I know it my shoulders are shaking. Tears run their course down my cheeks, leaving lines of freezing cold that seem to gash my skin.

"Such a fucking waste" I scream to the forest. I sob, letting the pain envelope everything that I am. Even my frigid little soul.

_Hermione Granger- 18 years old, Hogwarts Medi- Ward, Snape's room._

He's in pain. He's groggy, not thinking straight. But _fuck me_, he's also a bastard. I shake with anger, a stark contrast to late last night when I fell into his arms. He had been warm, comforting. I hadn't slept that well in years. Doesn't matter now that he's awake and half coherent.

I slam a pain potion down on his bedside table. I'm not leaving, not after staying by his side for weeks. I spent my birthday here reading this bloody bastard a potions journal. I've skipped showers and meals alike. I've isolated myself mourning the deaths of the war holed up with the body of a man I've hated and loved equally since I was twelve. I've always been loyal. Always on his side, at his defense. Always.

"Leave Granger." Even in a whisper, he puts as much anger and disgust in his voice as he can manage. Which isn't much at all. Pathetic. His attempt is pathetic, but I am even more so because I spin around clutching clean bandages. My jaw drops and I'm… I'm crying. Fuck. Great, I'm crying.

But god damn it, his words hurt. They stab deep into me, I hold his gaze. Just like I did in the dreams I used to dream a world ago. But this time there is no spark, this time it's all raw pain. I hiccup, which makes me realize I've been standing inches away from his bed shaking, sobbing.

This is rejection.

And it fucking burns.

"You're a fucking hypocrite" I whisper, I close the space between us and he watches as I drop the bandages on his lap. I move towards the door, his rasp stops me feet from it.

"Excuse me?" He asks, incredulous. I laugh outright, clutching my sides. I feel psychotic. I feel unraveled. So far gone I might never come back.

"I've loved you since I was twelve" I scream. Whipping around to face him. "Everything I've done, everything I've tried to be. It was for you. You- you ungrateful bastard! Unobtainable. I know. And so fucking stupid of me to think there might be a microscopic chance you'd see me as anything but dirt muffling the shine on your boots" I spit.

"You know Gin she got herself into the same situation. Loved a person who didn't even see her, I thought I was clever I told her just forget about him. Date others, get a hobby, anything but dwelling. And it worked, better than worked. Because now-" I sob. "Now she's gotten the person she's wanted her whole life."

"I took my own advice, I tried to date. That was a joke in itself. What the hell was I thinking? And then I stopped that, and accepted the fact I'd probably become some sad spinster who never smiled. Probably die a virgin unless I took to casual sex. I'd have to adopt if I ever wanted a child. But I accepted that, if I survived the war that would be my life."

"My pathetic fucking life, because I realized I didn't want anyone but you. But I can't have you" I screamed and stopped to take a breath. "You know what why can't you just let me take care of you? You don't have to love me. You don't have to like me. You can hate me, because, I know you already do" my voice shook as I hid my swollen face in my hands.

"Just don't say it. Don't tell me" I shake my head frantically and drop my hands to hold his baffled gaze. "It hurts me" I scream. I take a few calming breathes before speaking again bent over in exhaustion. "It hurts me too much" I whisper turning on my heel and leaving the room. "Gods, I'm exhausted."

I slam the door behind me as I leave.


	3. Wino

_Severus Snape- Present, Spinner's End_

The air had just begun to turn warm as the last of the fungus like dementors died off along with Voldemort's dwindled supporters. I've been declared in every household to be, now, the most powerful man of the wizarding world. Maybe even, if I can grudgingly admit, the most honorable. I snort aloud and asses the wreckage of my childhood home.

It wasn't much of one, _it isn't all that dear to me_. But as the ashes swirl around the heating air, it still jabs at my comatose little heart. The only damn property I owned, burnt down into floorboards, ash, and charm protected tomes. I pick out the very rare books and discreetly shrink and store them on my person.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips. _Now isn't that nice, to be able to show some type of emotional range after all these years?_ I could apparate to a pub right this moment, start a fight with every drinker, make the front page of Prophet- really start to chip away at that shiny, new household opinion of me.

I consider this for a moment before settling on my private quarters at Hogwarts and a bottle Odgen's.

)O(

When I finally have a tumbler of amber alcohol and a book in front of me it's already past supper. I haven't eaten yet again and when the 'pop' sounds and a plate is set in front of me I only nod and wait for the exiting 'pop'. As I eat my thoughts slowly trickle to the place they never seem to be able to not go.

_It's been four weeks, two days, thirteen hours, and roughly thirty minutes._

_All that time since she said it._

_Screamed it._

"_All for you… I love you… Unobtainable…"_

_Me?_

_Not me. _

_Of course I've been unobtainable, I was her professor! _

_Was… Was…. _

_Now she's gone and tested for her NEWTS, not having been educated for at least a year. If not more…_

_Definitely more._

_She had some of the highest scores Hogwarts has ever had._

_Hasn't been that high since… since…_

_Dumbledore… Riddle… Me._

_She looks determined in the paper's pictures. Also tired. Lifeless. Cold._

_Said she's almost cut off all contact with the Order. This is true. They drug me to the first meeting after the war._

_The spot between Weasley and Potter? There wasn't one._

_She wasn't there. She never is._

_She's been avoiding me. I've been avoiding her. _

_It's our little game._

_I'm surprised. She opted out of __**school**__. _

_I never expected it…_

_She's avoiding me… I don't know how to feel._

_I don't know her. SHE doesn't know me! _

_It doesn't mean I don't see her face in my sleep. _

)O(

_Hermione Granger, present- A flat on Sweeper Street._

With one silencing spell, a cd player, one bottle of red, and an all lace lingerie baby doll I have managed to:

Blast Abba so loud my ears might bleed without the neighbors realizing.

Discover that real wine drinkers don't need a glass to be lady like.

Lacy lingerie and the absence of underwear while getting drunk and slumping against your couch still manages to make a woman feel put together.

This lovely new flat is supposed to be a sign of independence and happiness. A fresh start, a chance to grow and heal. I giggle. "Yeah right." Then again I should be thankful. The members of the order are safe, Fred lost a finger and Fluer has a nice new scar to match her husband's. But everyone is recovering.

I'm just bitter, I guess. At times I begin to shake from the nerve damage caused by the cruciartis (I'm still taking potions to reverse the damage, it's somewhat of a three year process.) I have a couple more scars on my body. I suffer from what psychiatrists call paranoia, night terrors, something bordering on anti-social behavior. But I don't really believe the last one… I just need a break.

I've been ripped to shreds by this war, and the best part is that no one knows. No one cares enough to realize. Ronald is basking in the lime light. Harry is basking in Ginny's light. And I am sitting on a rug, slumped against my new couch in muggle London drinking wine, watching Crooks play with a cat toy half- heartedly, surrounded by textbooks. All while wearing a piece of lingerie I saw in a boutique today and bought immediately.

I thought to myself I didn't _need _a man to wear lingerie for, I could wear it for myself. I do feel sexy, like a lioness… (A drunk lioness.) What would the man of my dreams say at the sight of me now? All curly hair and lack of panties.

_I over reacted that night. _

I'm a witch, apparently a pretty one. At least, according to several wizard's publications. (Gin likes to send me all of the ones where I've been voted most desirable.) The only downfall to my looks is that I refuse to tame my hair or stop reading long enough for a wizard to actually _look_ at my face.

_I went crazy that night._

Minerva and Kingsley offered me a unique new post at Hogwarts. The two decided the students needed a kind of counselor, someone to talk to. To explain things to muggle- borns and purebloods alike. A woman who could promote good mental and social health for the students of Hogwarts.

It's the reason I've been binging on every muggle psychology and anatomy textbook there is. At this point I've read at least fifteen of each. After I discovered that I had burnt out those knowledge bases I subscribed to an online database of medical journals and I've bought every child psychology and child care book I could find relevant.

With all the research and preparation it's been around two months since my confession to Snape. And it's still painfully true. In two days I'll be returning to Hogwarts as the Health Professor, as a grown woman. One who has fought a war, killed, and been tortured.


	4. The Shakes

_Hermione Granger- Present Australia_

Unraveling the complex and wholly fictitious life I had weaved for my parents was exhausting. The mix of confusion, worry, and overall hurt that marred their faces made me ashamed. I apologized profusely. I plead that they hadn't been safe and after a round of scotch and four hours of war summarization they took me in their arms and drowned me in affection.

The telly casts a wavering glow over our figures. My father and mother sleep sitting up and I have my head resting on my mother's lap. Her hand is tangled into my curls like a lifeline. The red dashes on the electric clock form 3:33 am.

The weight that had pulled me down for months has finally been lifted. The wine, sarcasm, and smudged mascara all seem pointless. Their memories are faded like sun weakened sheets used for curtains. Even though it was less than a day ago.

Tomorrow a wizard from the Australian Ministry will stop by to connect my parent's fireplace to the floo network so that we can speak and visit while I work and live at Hogwarts. I smile and feel light for the first time since _that night_. I leave for Hogwarts in a day, and finally I feel the very late reaction of crippling nervousness. _I can't avoid him forever._

_Hermione Granger- Present, Hogwarts Gate. _

Hagrid lumbers over as I approach the wrought iron gate of Hogwarts. His big smile is infectious and soon I'm picked into a bone crunching hug. "It's so nice ter see you back. And as a pre- fesser no less!"

"It's lovely to see you to Hagrid." My heart is light and my face stretched into a wide smile as we walk up the path and speak excitedly about Hagrid's choices for creatures to introduce to students this year.

"We going ter have the Hypogryffs back, and a tank of gryndylow. Thestrals and blast ended skrewts!"

"Hagrid, are you sure blast ended skrewts are the best idea. It was such a disaster last-"

"Ah they ain't nothin' but misunderstood" he boomed confidently.

I shook my head in amusement, those poor fourth years were in for it. "Thank you Hagrid" came a stern Scottish lilt. "I will guide our new staff from here." McGonagall looked as proud as a parent. The older woman tucked her arm around my own and walked me through the doors for my first time as a teacher instead of a student. My bags floated after us. "I have to… inform you, as I have the others, that this year there will be many exchange students. Mostly from America and Italy."

"That's odd."

"Yes, but our school seems to be a sought after institution. We housed nearly ALL of the men and women who helped win the second wizarding war." She said proudly. I chuckled lightly. She raised her brow.

"You just sound very pleased but I think it sounds more like we are a tourist attraction instead of a school."

"You know Severus said the same." I hid my blush and she pretended not to see. Minerva pointed me to my painting and explained the process of making a password before excusing herself for tea and cards with Madam Pomfrey and Sprout.

My painting was of a little, dark curled girl in a white dress. She was currently having tea time with a wolf in a sheep's hood. The wolf lapped at a saucer of tea as the little girl looked up at me expectantly.

"Hello, what's your name?"

"Lumisade and 'zis is Naissankari." She pointed to the wolf who seemed to finally acknowledge me with a slight cock of his head.

"It's very nice to meet you both, I'm Hermione… or, er… Professor Granger. I guess- now. I'm not used to the title yet."

"Iz okay Professor, what password iz for you?"

I whispered "Hecate's Caoranach" after looking around in paranoia and casting a detecting spell. The little one nodded innocently, smiling a warm smile that could have melted the painted snow. Clearing my throat I stepped through the opening doorway. My trunk hovers above the carpet before dropping with a muted thunk.

I find myself unshrinking items. They fly and swoop around the room looking for a place to sit and rest. _I wish I could do the same_… The rooms are done in light silks and raw laces with jagged edges. They drape over deep burgundy couches and dark teal carpets. Dark wood bookcases tower from floor to ceiling.

My tomes quickly fill up the shelves, leaving only one line and one other bookcase empty. The fire rumbles and crackles seductively in the corner lulling me to its warmth as if trying to convince me I can take a break. Instead of giving in I walk to my new room taking in the bright oranges and Indian reds draped artfully over my bed. It looks fluffed and so soft.

I groan feeling my hands twitch, pins and needles crawl up my arms and over my body. _Great, fantastic._ I think sarcastically. I shake. I twitch and seize. With a weak breath a bottle of Nerve Slick is accioed. I struggle to unscrew the powder blue cap. A little splatters on the carpet before the charm sets in. It paints my body in an automatic coat of the cream that immediately calms my episode of shakes. My knees sink into the bed and I relax completely against the covers. _Just a little nap._

In my head I go over the class schedule- third years on Monday, fourths on Tuesday, fifths on Wednesday….. sixths on Thursday, and sevenths on Friday…. _We'll start with cells and organelle systems… _

_**AN: Short chapter I know. I'll have Severus' POV up some time soon. Bear with me I'm struggling to feel inspired due to a creative non- fiction class. I'm not sure if it's helping me or crippling me. :P A few facts: **_

_**I chose Hecate's Caoranach because Hecate is the Goddess of the moon and witches, she is also known as Lilith the mother of demons. A caoranach is a celtic lake woman who is said to birth demons. I thought it was a nice coincidence.**_

_**Lumisade means snow fall in Finnish.**_

_**Naissankari means both wolf and womanizer in Finnish. **_

_**I chose laces and silks to signify Herms going into the Mother Goddess stage. **_

_**Please read and review. I hope you enjoy!**_


	5. Chamomile Tornado

_Severus Snape- Hogwarts, Present. _

She walked straight past with a slight shake in her wrist, trunk trailing after her in a snaky path. I lurk like a disgrace in the recesses of a dark corner. Madam Pomfrey came to me with the usual list of medical potions and remedy pastes a fortnight ago along with a very new request of nerve repair solution. It takes a month to brew and a handful of Rhodiola, a bright curry colored flower, picked by the waning moon light…

I look back to Miss Granger whose curls kink and bounce, billowing around her in a flourish that rivals my own entrances. A tightening constricts my chest. I sigh and quickly make my way to the library for a reference on chamomile. _It certainly isn't an herb that crosses my mind much, as it is such a mundane little plant. _

As I trail my fingers across dusty tome spines I consider the past few weeks of my existence. Because really I've been thinking about Her-.. Miss Granger so much lately. At first I thought it just me humoring myself a little contemplation. Days later I realized I hadn't considered and brooded upon a woman so much since Lily.

But Lily and Miss Granger have nothing in common. It extends to a propensity in education and stops there at an abrupt halt. Lily, I've come to realize, was a selfish and prideful woman- just as much as her muggle sister Petunia. I sneer at the thought and slide a journal on muggle homeopathic remedies out of its slot, the book next to it shivers and purrs. I raise a brow.

Lily took the first chance she could to rip herself from my life. Miss Granger is much less human than Lily, she isn't so fatally flawed- her behavior resembled a tornado in the war. Calculating and destructive. She kept the ones she loved and respected under her fierce protection. And it seems, to me, that respect and love are equal in her eyes.

Miss Granger never takes on the visage of a crow by chasing after the shiny and the beautiful. The only things she seems to covet are books. While Lily's only legacy was birthing the son who would defeat the Dark Lord, Hermione fought beside Potter destroying many of the dark wizard's soul shards. I have witnessed her murder countless death eaters without the blink of an eye. She is logical. Lily groveled and begged. My Hermione would rip the hearts out of a thousand dark wizards if it would save another thousand innocent lives.

I drop the journal in my hands with a loud slap.

_My Hermione?_

_**AN: I know, I know. It's been such a long time. I truly have been fighting my own battles. Not only with Uni but with my depression as well, but I'm back. I promise. And again such a short chapter. I apologize.  
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